A History in Notes: lost in a curse
by errance.ivrogne
Summary: His mission after departing Hogwarts, as documented by Salazar Slytherin (a companion piece to A History in Notes: in the 10th century, because my friend wanted an expansion of his fate)


_Year of the Lord 942_

_The memoirs of Salazar Slytherin_

I have made my decision. I have left behind what has become of my life, I have left my friends and he who had become my brother. But it is for the best; while they are only interested in filling students' minds with nonsense, I have had a vision, the same one, every Halloween for nigh on three years now. In the future there shall be fire; children and women shall be put to the stake for the ridiculous fear the magik-less have harboured. I _tried_ to tell them. It is no good to mix the magik and the magik-less, it breeds discontent and irrational fear, hatred. But my friends would not acquiescent to my demands; I admit I did not expect them too, but I needed to have tried.

I am on my way to meet the Underworld Brethren. They are a secret society; I had found barely a trail of them in the tomes Rowena hoardes. But find them I did. They practice the darkest of magiks; I must harness this power to protect those I hold dear. I do not know when in the future my visions will become true, but I shall not sit in a castle, coddling small children and hiding in the dark while peasants sharpen the pitchforks to harm my friends.

My only regret is that I did not bid a true farewell to my dearest Helga. Though she shall not show it, I know she will feel as wracked with pain at our separation as I do. I hope it shall pass soon, for I have long journey ahead of me.

_Year of the Lord 943_

_The memoirs of Salazar Slytherin_

I have traced back the rumours and tales of the Brethren to a cave near a town named Tamworth, far the north of where my home last lied. I shall wait until nightfall before approaching; the town has been over-run with Vikings. They are savage and ruthless, primitive for the most part. However, there is a sorcerer with them; he seems quite mad, giggling and prancing about as though he had partaken of too much wine by far, but I can feel the power rolling off of him in waves. It is different to our own, as though he has captured the sea and the wind and has bound them to himself with the strongest chains. If we encounter each other, I am unsure of who would win.

_Year of the Lord 943_

_The memoirs of Salazar Slytherin_

I have barely escaped from the town with my life. It seems the Brethren had been caught, their bodies cut open and strung across the entrance as a warning for trespassers. I had thought that perhaps there was some remnant of their power left behind, a scrap I could gather and return with to Danelaw. But it was not so; in fact, the sorcerer I had mentioned earlier has a devilish mind; he had sent up a trap, a magik circle to ensnare me, or any warlock, should he set a foot inside the cave. I am by far more powerful than those we had taken into our school, which was the only reason I escaped. But I can feel the effects of the trap, like a thousand knives stabbing deep into my body.

I am fading, but my potions sustain me; I must make my way to Danelaw and Helga. She will cure my wrecked soul, even though my body is beyond repair. I have failed in my mission and there is a long way to travel before I manage to return home in disgrace.

_Year of the Lord 943_

_The memoirs of Salazar Slytherin_

This will be my last entry. Even though I will not be completing my journey into the arms of my beloved, I believe I shall achieve peace before I depart none the less. I had collapsed on the beaten track - a fate far graceless than it sounds- when I was, dare I say, _rescued_ by an old man. I say old, though he looked barely 30 and 5 years gone, his eyes speak of a time longer waiting than those his face betrays. He tells me his name is Ambrosius. He is a very agreeable fellow; in fact, he reminds me of all the best qualities of my friends: the strength and kindness of Helga, the wisdom of Rowena and the wit, joviality of Godric. He has plied me with potions, some I dare say I can make better, taste-wise at the least, in an attempt, I believe, to save my life. But the curse of that rotten magik devil cannot be undone; my spirit is readying itself into the journey beyond the Veil and I shall not attempt to hinder it.

I am tired now, perhaps I shall see another dawn, and perhaps I shant. My last wish is only that my friends and beloved live on and do not encounter the horrendous future I have seen.


End file.
